The Heart of a Phantom
by ParchmentWithVelvetRibbon
Summary: The old book still lies in the box, inside the third step of the hidden staircase in the Beckett manor. The book has no material value, and to the naked eye is nothing short of ugly. The title has long since crumbled under the clumsy fingers of my younger self. But its contents remain. There in the book is a story. My story. My name is Christine Daae.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is my first ever attempt at a fanfiction so the chapters aren't very detailed. I'll make it longer if it turns out ok...I'm quite excited about the idea so thanks a lot for reading and please review! :D**

The old book still lies in the box, inside the third step of the hidden staircase in the Beckett manor. The book has no material value, and to the naked eye is nothing short of ugly. It is bound in worn, faded leather. The title has long since crumbled under the clumsy fingers of my younger self. But its contents remain. There in the book is a story. My story. My name is Christine Daae and this is the story of the infamous Phantom of the Opera…

The three little ones gasped in awe. "Phantom?!" cried Gabrielle, her small mouth dropping open. She scrunched up her face in disgust, "how awful!" Josephine, the youngest, shook gently and began to cry, wrapping pale, twig thin arms around her trembling knees. Madeleine merely cocked her head to one side and bit her lip. "Aunt Stephanie, what's a Phantom?" She spoke quietly. Aunt Stephanie put down the old book, tipped her glasses slightly further down her freckled nose, and peered at the child.

"Ah, young Madeleine, a Phantom is a ghost." She smiled wryly, pushed her glasses back up onto her face and opened her mouth to resume reading. Josephine gasped and cried harder and began to rock back and forth on the faded rug. Madeleine, ignoring her sister got to her feet.

"A ghost? You mean…our great, great grandmother actually met a really real ghost?" Stephanie laughed warmly, placed the open book across her knees and leant back in her chair; her pale hands clasped in her lap.

"Hush now, Josephine" She whispered to the crying child, "you mustn't fear the Phantom, he is not really a ghost, he may not be alive, but he is not dead. As for you, Gabrielle, you must never judge such a creature as a phantom. There is always more than meets the eye." Gabrielle snorted; tossing golden locks over one shoulder.

"How can you possibly be a ghost if you're not dead? You _are_ silly Aunt Stephanie…" Gabrielle took Josephine's hand and led her to the nursery door. "Come along now Josephine, we don't believe in ghosts anyway, do we?"

Madeleine watched them go before lifting the book and scrabbling up onto her aunt's lap. The fire beside them danced a little lower and she sat there a moment before speaking.

"Aunt? I believe in ghosts, but I did think you had to be dead first." She looked into the tired eyes of her aunt and waited. Stephanie paused for a moment, glancing down at her wondering niece. "Madeleine, the Phantom of the Opera was a mystery to all who knew him, not the least of which my great grandmother, Christine. She met him when she was very young. You know the story don't you?" Madeleine looked thoughtful.

"Great, great grandmother had two lovers. She chose our great, great grandfather Raoul. Isn't _that_ it aunty?" Stephanie nodded slowly.

"Yes Madeleine, that's right. But what you don't know is that Erik never stopped loving Christine. The man was a genius. Mad, but a genius, but by the end, after the torment of life, the destruction of the theatre and the rejection of Christine, the Phantom died. Not in body, but in heart." Stephanie smiled sadly at Madeleine.

"Erik?" Madeleine whispered.

"Erik," smiled Aunt Stephanie gently.

"Erik," repeated Madeleine. "What happened to him?" She looked down at the book in her hands.

"There's no point Madeleine. Once Christine chose Raoul, she never saw the Phantom again." Madeleine looked thoughtfully into the fire before climbing from her aunt's lap and staring blankly into the flames. "Aunt Stephanie will you play the music again?" She turned to face her with a curious expression on her face. Stephanie smiled, pulled a page of sheet music from within the book, and took it to a grand piano. The piano lay bathed in moonlight beneath a large window. It was old and the black varnish was beginning to peel. Stephanie placed the sheet music onto the piano and sat on the bench, stretching her elegant fingers across the keys. This was a familiar piece to them both by now and as she played, Stephanie could feel, stronger than ever before, the child's eyes dancing across her back.


	2. Chapter 2

15 years passed and Madeleine was no less entranced by the music. So much so she now kept a piano in her room, so that she might hear it everyday. She kept Christine Daae's book hidden, reading it from start to finish every night under the cover of night by candlelight.

"Madeleine. Cut. It. OUT!" Gabrielle yelled from her bedroom opposite.

"Leave her be Gabrielle…" A soft voice began,

"But does she have to practice everyday_,_ Aunt Stephanie," whined Gabrielle.

"It is no crime! She is not the only one practice her, hmm, hidden talents?" Stephanie winked at her shocked niece and crossed the dimly lit hall to Madeleine's room. A young, pale woman glanced up from a piano, her fingers still resting on the keys and the ghost of her last note fading into nothing. Stephanie nudged her up the piano bench and sat beside her. The pair heard a muttered, "At least _I _can sing…" before the heavy, rustic door clicked shut.

"You are spending far too much time alone here, Madeleine…it worries me." Aunt Stephanie stroked the girl's pale cheek tenderly. She waited a moment but Madeleine said nothing. She lowered her head until her soft, brown curls curtained it from Stephanie's gaze. Aunt Stephanie tucked an aged finger under her niece's chin and raised it gently. "Why is it Madeleine? Hmm? Why do you lock yourself up all through the day? Is something bothering you? Perhaps the piano was a bad idea…" Stephanie mused, stroking it absent-mindedly. Madeleine's dark eyes flickered up swiftly into the worried face of her aunt. She sighed.

"No Aunty. Nothing is bothering me." She paused, letting her fingers drop from the piano keys; her aunt raised an immaculate eyebrow. Madeleine laughed softly. An easy laugh that for a moment quieted the fear in Aunt Stephanie's eyes.

"I'm telling the truth! I like being alone, Aunty. I can't help it! I love music and the way it makes me feel and I may play often, but I don't care. I do not care what Gabrielle says either." Madeleine scowled, unaware of her clenched fist and even less aware of the concerned expression her aunt wore.

"Madeleine…" Stephanie started and something in her voice snapped Madeleine to her feet.

"Aunty," she interrupted, "look at this." She ran to a large wooden closet. From a discreet shelf, behind rows of gowns and piles of hats, Madeleine pulled Christine's book and hopped back onto the white satin sheets of her bed. She gingerly flicked through the worn pages until she found the entry she was looking for.

"She wrote it right here. _When I'd come here alone, to light a candle for my father, the music would speak to me. It made my soul take wing." _She paused to stare hard at Stephanie. "See? Christine was no different. She…"

"And look where that got her!" Stephanie growled suddenly. Madeleine gasped and Aunt Stephanie continued more gently. "It drove her mad, Madeleine. Music changed Christine; I've heard the stories. She was in a trance when she heard it, and came back every time murmuring about the 'angel' or 'phantom'. It does no good to spend so much time alone with it."

Madeleine frowned, "First of all, it is not the same. I don't hear voices in my head. I am not mad! And secondly, you say that like it isn't true. _You _told me the story of my great, great grandmother. _You _told me about the Phantom of the Opera! And now you call it madness, you said you believed in it all!"

"There was a time, years ago when I told you a _story_, a story, Madeleine. Your great, great grandmother wrote that she had two lovers, and she did choose Raoul. But there was never any proof of any Phantom. A man named Erik may have existed a long time ago but the mystery of the "Phantom of the Opera" has long since died unanswered. It is nonsense to dwell on such fantasy and Christine Daae is proof that I speak the truth. The Phantom of the Opera was a fairy tale I told to three little girls 15 years ago." Aunt Stephanie rose to her feet and wondered toward the wooden door of the bedroom. She reached out for the gilded doorknob as Madeleine murmured,

"I am going to the Opéra Populaire."

Stephanie stopped dead and turned slowly. "What?"

Madeleine inhaled sharply and repeated it louder. "I am going to the Opéra Populaire, Aunt Stephanie. It says right here, this is where the story starts. Where Christine Daae's tale begins. _This _is where I'll find the Phantom."

"Erik is dead Madeleine. This all happened over a hundred years ago."

"He might be. But his story is not." Madeleine stood up abruptly and marched to the closet. "I'm leaving tonight, Aunt Stephanie. I will not be called mad. Neither will Christine. And as I recall, Aunty, was it not you that 15 years ago told my sisters and I that there is always more than meets the eye? Besides, I always knew the day would come when you would no longer understand me."

Stephanie fled the room with a gasp. She backed into the bedroom door until it closed, and lay motionless on the smooth wood, listening with closed eyes to the bustling activity of its inhabitant.

"Oh Madeleine." She whispered, a single tear glinting down her cheek.

"This is a fools errand."


	3. Chapter 3

There were heated arguments that day, and many of them. Aunt Stephanie had raised and protected the three sisters ever since they had been placed in her care; she wasn't about to let her niece run away on account of some story.

"Madeleine, this is nonsense!" She cried, following her niece as she marched through the house gathering her belongings.

"You've made you opinion quite clear Aunt." Madeleine said, narrowing her dark eyes in frustration.

"Can't you see the madness in this? You're leaving behind everything you have and everything you know; starting a wild goose chase on account of one book and a conversation with an old maid." Stephanie reached a hand out and grasped Madeleine's wrist desperately. "Look at me."

Madeleine turned slowly to stare pointedly at her Aunt. "Is it worth it Madeleine? It's only a story…"

"A story I have been fascinated by since I was 5 years old! Don't you understand? I'm not like you and the others. Josephine likes dolls. She likes to wear pretty frocks and read stories about princesses and happily ever afters. Even now! Gabrielle is smart. She likes thing to be real. She has no time for fairies or magic, or even imagination. I am not like them. I fell in love with the dark Opera House the first time I heard its name. I fell in love with the music. How it was hypnotic and haunting and dangerous in its own right. And, Aunt Stephanie, I fell in love with the Phantom. I fell in love with his madness and his ferocity." Madeleine stopped for breath and crumpled under the anguished expression of her aunt.

"Aunt Stephanie?" She took her aunts hands. "All my life, I have felt drawn to the Opéra Populaire…"

"Just like her." Stephanie smiled softly. Madeleine narrowed her eyes, "I need to see it. I need to know how the story ends. And if all else fails, I just know I'll be happy there. Aunt, there's just…"

"Nothing left for you here?" Stephanie choked; the tears forming in eyes magnified somewhat by her glasses. Madeleine nodded sadly. "But why now?"

"If I don't leave now, Aunt, I fear I never will. You'll talk me out of it." Madeleine forced a small smile.

Stephanie gulped and seized her niece, pulling her into a suffocating hug.

"I'm frightened, Madeleine." Madeleine freed herself and smiled properly at her aunt for the first time that day.

"Why, Aunty?" She grinned. "After all, it is only a story."

It was that moment that Gabrielle chose to charge through the hallway, seizing Madeleine's arm as she passed, towing her violently into her bedroom. Madeleine struggled and hissed angrily at her sister until she was roughly released. Gabrielle slammed her door behind her and stormed to Madeleine, grabbed her roughly by the hair and pulled her to her feet. "What are you doing?" She snarled into her sister's face. "You're just going to leave?" She cried shrilly. Madeleine winced and struggled slightly but Gabrielle merely seethed and tossed her back to the ground. She paced up and down for a moment before turning back to Madeleine and folding her arms.

"You promised _sister." _She sneered. "Remember that? The day we came to this godforsaken town you PROMISED that you would never leave us."

Madeleine lay gasping and finally caught her sister's eye. "We were children Gabrielle. We were strangers here and we had just lost our parents. You no longer need my protection. You like it here don't you?"

Gabrielle flushed. "Protection? You're right I don't need your protection; I've never had it! All you've done since we were children is lock yourself away in that room, playing that awful music! I heard you talking to Aunt Stephanie. You think I have no time for imagination. Why do you think that is? Because one of us had to keep her head out of the clouds! That should have been you Madeleine! But you were too busy with, not even your, but our great, great _grandmother's _fantasies! And now you're actually leaving to go find this fairy land…an- and…are you even coming back?" Gabrielle stared at her sister. Madeleine tried to lie, but she couldn't. "I didn't think so. You're running away Madeleine. And don't bother even thinking about whether to come back. Josephine and I are better off without you."


	4. Chapter 4

Madeleine has packed very little in the case that bumped on the seat beside her. The wind gushed through nooks in the carriage, and Madeleine pulled her navy blue coat a little tighter across her chest. Staring out of the window she could barely even make out the shadows of trees in the darkness. She pulled the curtain across it and fell back into her seat. The words of her sister echoed in her head, but she didn't linger on the memory. There would be time for that later. Right now Madeleine needed rest. The dim lanterns illuminating the carriage were a comfort and Madeleine slept until the carriage pulled into Paris.

She was awoken roughly by the driver who, in his haste to return home barely caught the money Madeleine tipped into his gloved hand before he leapt back onto the carriage, and disappeared into the pale dawn. She sighed and pulled up the hood of her coat, before following a dirt track towards a cluster of buildings.

The village was small, and inns were few and far between, but finally Madeleine found one.

"_La Rose Rouge…_red rose," she murmured. She entered the tavern and warily approached the innkeeper. He stood near the bar, a small, withered, old man with a distrustful face and cold eyes. These eyes, so full of greed, narrowed in suspicion at the figure that approached him.

"Can I help you?" His voice was thick yet leering. 'Because if so know this…I'll do nothing for a stranger." Madeleine gripped her hood with two hands and pulled it back, the effects were immediate. The innkeeper gasped and fell back against the bar and around them many heads turned to find Madeleine.

"Who are you?" The innkeeper wheezed, his eyes wide with terror, "what do you want?"

Madeleine's heart sank, her breath quickened but she somehow replied calmly, "A room. I wish to stay the night." She shifted on her feet, unable to escape the eyes burning into her back. The innkeeper clutched his heart.

"Not a chance." He hissed, eyes wide. Madeleine frowned. "Besides, you never answered my question miss. Who are you?"

Madeleine stared, "Madeleine. Madeleine Beckett." The innkeeper frowned.

"Don't lie to me you demon, you'll regret it." He snarled.

"Easy." A hand found the shoulder of the innkeeper and turned him away from Madeleine. She stared hard at the stranger, but saw nothing more than a cloak and a hat leading the old man away.

"Impossible, impossible…" The innkeeper sobbed.

Madeleine turned quickly and moved to the door of the inn. She pulled the handle toward her and lurched as a hand slammed the door back closed. "I don't think so." A smooth voice said. Madeleine glanced up feebly at the hat and cloak she'd just seen, to find two eyes flaming beneath it. She backed away from the door. "What do you want?" She pleaded.

"I might ask you the same question, _Madeleine Beckett,_" the man grunted.

"A room!" She cried. The man glared at her. Madeleine sighed and glanced in the direction the innkeeper had gone.

"What is impossible?" she asked.

"You." The man scowled. "The old man seems to recall you from his younger days. Caused a bit of trouble in his time, you did." Madeleine frowned.

"Impossible." She agreed. The man glared.

"I'm not one for superstition, nor do I believe in ghost stories, but you're an exception. Yours is a cursed face and it doesn't belong here." He took Madeleine's shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

"Why did you block the door?" she snarled, her face contorted with anger. The man looked surprised.

"You were only going to send me back out anyway."

"I wanted to see for myself. He's right though. You're the splitting image of her." The man looked pained, and Madeleine felt a stab of pity for him.

"Who?" She raised an eyebrow curiously.

"I won't have her name said here. It's a cursed name too." He growled, reaching for her shoulder again.

Madeleine suddenly wondered, could it be…

"Christine? Christine Daae…"

"OUT!" The man shoved Madeleine out of the inn and followed her into the street. "HOW DARE YOU!" He roared. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK THAT NAME HERE, I TOLD YOU IT WAS CURSED!"

Madeleine recoiled but still replied, "For a man who doesn't believe in curses, you are certainly afraid of them." He flushed.

"Where are you going?" Hm? What brings you here, to Paris? To _this_ village?"

Madeleine hesitated and then gave in, "The Opéra Populaire. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

The man drew a sharp breath. "I thought as much." He turned back to Madeleine. "Well then Miss Beckett, you are in luck." A smirk was just visible across his shadowed face, "Because I have indeed heard of the Opéra Populaire, and you will allow me to escort you there."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi again! I apologise if this story seems to be dragging so far...It will get more exciting soon I promise! I'm trying to keep true to the genre/oldish atmosphere of the original story which means a lot of dialogue for now while I introduce my characters etc. Bare with me, it'll all kick off soon enough! Hope you're still enjoying, and if you are please let me know! This is gunna be a long one so I'd appreciate any feedback ya'll got! XD **

**Anyways enough from me, the show must go on!**

**xox**

Madness. It's a curious thing. Warps a perfect mind and turns beauty to nightmare. A room full of people and a mad person is still alone, for if you lose yourself, you've lost everything…

"How far to the Opera Populaire?" Madeleine asked quietly. It was the first time either had spoken since they had left Le Rose Rouge. She waited, but the man did not speak.

"I suppose it can't be too far," she continued, "you would have to have been mad to agree to walk me too far."

"I am mad." He murmured. "But so are you, you followed a perfect stranger into the dawn without question." Madeleine stopped and glared at the man.

"If it concerns you, then why do you insist on being a stranger?"

The man simply replied, "I don't."

"Who are you?" The man looked at her, Madeleine stopped again and turned to face him. She saw the lights that were his eyes darken.

"Who are _you?"_ he retorted angrily.

"I told you, Madeleine Beckett." She spat, her face contorted with confusion.

"So you keep saying." He replied huffily.

"Because it's true. I am." She glared. Madeleine sighed to herself. Would it always be this way? Being defined as the heroine of an old tale? It was ridiculous. The man glowered at the ground beneath him and said nothing.

"Trust me…"

"I trust no one," he growled. "And I am no stranger." He snarled, marching ahead. Madeleine had to run a couple of paces to keep up. She was bemused. This was a peculiar gentleman indeed. The pair walked in silence for a while. Madeleine glanced sideways at the man every so often. Her heart pounded, she thought that perhaps it had been madness to follow this man. She summoned some courage and cautiously asked,

"So do you visit Le Rose Rouge often?" The stranger paused before quietly replying, "no." Madeleine nodded. The stranger glanced at her, "I was waiting for someone."

"Who?" Madeleine frowned.

"An old friend." He replied again.

"You should have stayed. They'll wonder where you are." The stranger shook his head.

"I've been waiting long enough."

"And what about the Opéra Populaire?" Madeleine quizzed him. The man sighed.

"I have not visited the Opera House for a long time."

"I wouldn't suppose you had. The famous disaster caused unimaginable damage. It has only just been repaired." Madeleine pondered quietly.

"Indeed." The stranger replied.

"Why did you offer to escort me?"

"I told you Miss Beckett. I have not visited the Opéra Populaire for a long time. A visit is due. What is your business there?" He didn't look at her.

"Curiosity." Madeleine replied. The stranger glanced at her.

"Oh?"

"You must have heard the stories?" Madeleine said, "There's not a soul in these parts who hasn't."

"Are you referring to the Phantom of the Opera?" He looked concerned. Madeleine gazed at him curiously.

"Yes." She replied, raising an eyebrow. The man narrowed his eyes once again.

"Tell me Miss Beckett, do you _really_ seek the Opera House, or are you, like so many others before you, on the hunt for the Phantom himself?" Madeleine glared at him; there was a taunting tone to his voice that made her uneasy. Also, he was nosier than se had anticipated.

"Well, the Opera Populaire has fascinated me since I was very small…" she started warily. "But it would be a lie to say I was not curious about the Phantom." She sighed, and the stranger slowly turned away from Madeleine.

"Foolish of me really. " She said, shaking her head.

"Oh?" came the voice of the stranger.

"Well, I cannot help but wonder whether or not he existed, or was even real for that matter. It could be that he was merely a figment of imagination." Madeleine heard the man gasp. She carried on quietly.

"Angel of music, angel in hell, phantom…it doesn't seem real." She finished. The air seemed to still. The night felt cooler, and somehow the silence felt heavier as Madeleine turned once more to face the man. He reached for his hat, slowly removing it from his head. Madeleine's eyes travelled instantly to that face.

"Tell me, Miss Beckett. Does it seem more real now?" The Phantom smiled horribly and Madeleine uttered only one word as she collapsed, unconscious, to the dirt track,

"Erik…"


	6. Chapter 6

The Opera Populaire stood silently against the sun. Passers by walked without sparing even a glance at the fabled place. Erik watched, eyes burning beneath the shadow of his hat. After the fire, he had left the Opera Populaire, certain he would never return. He was not wrong. This _thing_ was not the Opera House he remembered. It had none of the grandeur or enchantment it used to.

Day turned to night, and as it did, Erik's smile slowly returned. The Opera Populaire was nothing of its former glory but the Phantom was back, and his reign was just beginning.

"Wake her."

"You wake her…"

"No!"

"Well we can't just leave her there! She'll be hurt. Plus it's nearly nightfall already, this is no place for a young lady to be out alone!"

"Then wake her."

"…You are impossible. Miss? Miss?"

A gentle hand shook the shoulder of Madeleine Beckett.

"Miss?" Came a timid male voice. "I apologise Miss, but I thought it best to inform you…you've fallen asleep in the middle of the road."

Madeleine blinked awake. Her eyes found those of a young man. She frowned and the man stepped back anxiously.

"I-I wasn't asleep, I- well, I…" Madeleine sighed, exasperated at her own efforts to communicate. "Thankyou Sir." She smiled warmly and the man's soft eyes twinkled back.

"Not a problem." He smiled, "I might ask where you were headed before you…fell?"

Madeleine nodded, "I'm headed for the Opera Populaire, I think, I'm not particularly familiar with this area of Paris." Madeleine frowned again, rubbing a pain in her head tenderly with her hand.

"You're doing fine." A female voice snapped. A small auburn girl marched towards the man and seized his wrist. "The Opera House is that way, you can practically see it from this road. It won't take a genius to find it."

"Corinne…" The man sighed, rolling his eyes fondly. "It wouldn't hurt to be polite you know. Do excuse my sister, Miss, she struggles to abide by social traditions." The man smiled warily.

Corinne narrowed her eyes, "Be that as it may, this is different. I don't make a habit of fraternising with ghosts."

Madeleine flinched and snapped her head round to face Corinne, "I beg your pardon?" She whispered angrily.

"Corinne…" The man warned.

"No Julian, look at her!" Corinne exclaimed. "I walk past the portraits of the old dancers everyday. If Christine Daae was ever a ghost, you're looking at her!"

Julian ran a hand through a mess of dark hair and turned to face Madeleine.

"We'll take you to the Opera Populaire Miss…?"

"Beckett."

"Miss Beckett, but be warned. You would be lucky to receive any warm welcome there." He moved closer, lowering his voice he murmured, "My sister isn't the only superstitious in these parts Miss Beckett. If you remember the Phantom tale, you'd be safe in assuming that others do too." Julian considered Madeleine with kind eyes, waited until she nodded slowly before turning his attention to an outraged Corinne.

The two strode ahead, and through enraged splutters and murmured warnings Madeleine heard a final "Corinne, I love you, but I suggest you stop talking before I do something I regret…" before silence fell between the 3 travellers.


	7. Chapter 7

Corinne soon fell back. Whether angry, stubborn, or simply disgusted Madeleine couldn't tell, but it gave her opportunity to question her brother.

"Your sister's shy of company?" Madeleine murmured. Julian glanced back at Corinne warily.

"Not usually." He replied. "Not like this anyway. I will admit she isn't perhaps the most hospitable person, but I've never known her to be unkind."

"Then why…" Madeleine began,

"You should learn to expect it Miss Beckett" He smiled, "Especially where we're going." Madeleine sighed.

"I didn't anticipate such a reaction." She whispered, casting her eyes back at Corinne again. Julian bit his lip,

"Don't judge them too harshly, fear makes people do strange things."

"What do they have to be afraid of? What do they honestly think will happen?" Madeleine caught herself. Erik had appeared to her once already, she'd barely been here a night.

"You said I was asleep when you found me?" Madeleine quizzed.

"Yes?" Julian replied just as quizzically.

"Did you see anybody else?"

"Miss, if somebody else had been around, they would have seen you and woken you up. No one would be cruel enough to let one sleep in a road. My cruellest thought was that you were perhaps…inebriated."

"B-Bah, Y-You thought I was drunk?!" Madeleine gasped.

"Well you were facedown in a road, less than a mile from the nearest tavern. What did you expect him to think?" Corinne snarled cuttingly. She had noiselessly reappeared beside Julian.

"Corinne…" He started warily.

"Should we have seen somebody else?" Corinne asked curiously.

"No," Madeleine replied quickly. Either she had imagined Erik, or she'd lain a long time before being found by Corinne and Julian. This was a quiet track, they'd being walking little over an hour and not a single carriage or person had yet appeared; it was unlikely that another would have missed her. But she couldn't have imagined it…

"And speaking of what I might have thought, Corinne." Julian started. "I could have been concerned for her state of…well-being." Madeleine turned slowly, catching Corinne's slowly reddening face out of the corner of her eye. "Oh yes," Julian smiled, returning his gaze to Madeleine, "you gave Corinne here quite a turn." Corinne mouthed silently, furiously.

"I-I…" She spluttered. "I didn't know who she was then!" Madeleine's face crumpled. Corinne bit her lip. "I mean I would have cared if you _were _dead…but you weren't." She finished uncertainly. Madeleine nodded. "Look, I'm going to say this now, early, before we go any further. Julian stop." She glanced at him briefly. "Madeleine, I'm not going to pretend to be your friend. You've done nothing wrong as such, but your face is not one I can trust. Christine Daae did nothing wrong either, but that didn't stop the deaths or the fire that destroyed, well, my home! Being around you makes me uneasy. I'm sorry for it. I'm also sorry I was cruel, that was unnecessary." Madeleine nodded. "A final word, Miss Beckett. Julian was not wrong when he told you that fear made people do strange things, do not expect a warm welcome from the Opera House." Madeleine nodded sadly.

"We're close" Julian said quietly, nodding towards the city growing before them in the dull starlight.

"What are you doing visiting the Opera House so late anyway?" Madeleine asked. Julian laughed, and Corinne smiled wryly.

"Actually, we're _returning _to the Opera House late. We actually live there." He grinned at Madeleine, "My sister and I often sneak out late."

"_Actually_ I think you'll find that YOU sneak out late." Corinne scowled.

"No one forces you to follow." Julian laughed.

"Don't be stupid." Corinne scoffed. "I can't let you wonder off on your own. You might not come back." Julian laughed and jogged ahead.

"Come on, if we don't get there soon we won't be able to sneak back in!" Madeleine raised an eyebrow…did he expect her to run? Beside her, Corinne had also paused, Madeleine recognised a troubled look. Perhaps her last comment wasn't supposed to be as funny as Julian had taken it.


	8. Chapter 8

The Opéra Populaire. Madeleine mouthed these words again, and again, and again, as they threesome approached it. It loomed over its neighboring buildings, which paled in comparison to it; and in the rising sunlight, it glowed as though once again alight.

"Oh no…" Julian groaned. "Sunrise! Corinne you must hurry, they will find your bed empty." He sighed, "I'm sorry." Corinne shrugged and moved towards the Opéra Populaire, glancing around before slipping into shadow around the back of the building.

"What about you?" Madeleine quizzed, her eyes fixed still on the Opera House. Julian sighed again,

"Well I couldn't have left you anyway Miss," He smiled gently, "I'll introduce you as a friend of mine." He moved to open the doors,

"Julian, wait." Madeleine murmured. She had expected nerves, but there was a fear creeping like ice into her blood that she couldn't explain. She was entranced by the Opera House, but too afraid yet to move. In the sunlight it looked almost beautiful, but as the dull light of dawn began to cloak it, it's tall pillars and empty windows turned into something haunting. Like a ghost of its old glamour, for in every other way it looked no different than the old picture she clutched in her hand. Julian watched her silently.

"Miss?" He said tenderly, "Miss, we must go." Madeleine returned her gaze slowly to Julian.

"Sorry. Where did Corinne go?"

"Through the passage. They closed a lot of them after the…incident, but not all. I think they wanted to keep as much as they could the same."

"They did well." Madeleine smiled. "Shall we?" Julian nodded and moved once more towards the doors. Even these were formidable, where they may once have been grand. Julian moved to pull one open.

"Locked." He murmured. Frowning he pulled harder. "This isn't right, it should be open by now."

"It _is _early."

"Not for them." Julian rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"MADELEINE!"

The door flew open nearly knocking Madeleine back down a flight of stairs leading to the doorway. Stumbling Madeleine heard a deafening shriek before the heavy door closed again.

"Miss! Are you hurt?" Julian gasped frantically.

"N-" Julian charged towards the door, threw it open, and disappeared into the candlelit hall. Madeleine hurried after him, closing the door behind her. Muffled voices came from a couple of feet ahead. In the flickering light, Madeleine could make out two figures, Julian and a stranger, furiously whispering, and pointing in her direction.

"You can't just-"

"Just what?!"

"Bring _that_ in here!"

"She."

"Fine. You can't bring _her_ in here."

"Why?"

"Ha! Like you need to ask. Take that thing out of here before I fetch Madam."

"Fetch her."

Julian's silhouette folded its arms and stood stock still until, with a huff, the stranger marched away. He then turned to Madeleine.

"Apologies Madeleine." He smiled warily, who nodded, equally wary, before turning to absorb her surroundings.

Madeleine crossed her arms protectively, worried, she shot at Julian, "Who is Madam?"

"The woman in charge around here." Julian replied, "I probably shouldn't have sent for her like that." Madeleine ran a hand through her hair and gasped, retracting her hand violently as though burned.

"You let me walk around looking like this?" she growled.

"Like wh-"

"Hair loose! And…Oh!" Madeleine looked down at her dress. "Covered in dirt!"

Julian raised an eyebrow. "If everybody is going to automatically fear me, the least I could have done is make a good impression." She scowled. Julian laughed, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight, one hand clumsily trying to hide his mouth.

"Don't be silly." He beamed, "besides, I doubt it will make much of a difference either way…" Madeleine looked crestfallen and Julian felt a pang of guilt. It would be worse to lie, he thought. An uncomfortable silence fell between the two, until footsteps on the stairs jolted them from their momentary trances. Two sets of shoes clicked on the staircase, muffled voices rising as the echoes became louder. Julian clasped his hands together and stared pointedly at the ceiling, while Madeleine curtained her face with the loose curls of her hair, fumbling with her fingers.

"Julian!" A sharp voice barked. "Juli- Oh no!" Madam's gaze fell onto Madeleine, who peered from under her curtain, blushed, and pushed her hair back behind her ears, shuffling uncomfortably. Madam was still a mere figure in the candlelight, but her disgust was obvious. Upon laying eyes on Madeleine she stumbled back, hands over her mouth, and her breath was rapid and heavy.

"Christine?" She moaned.

"No!" Julian yelled, "Madeleine, ma'am, Madeleine Beckett."

"Don't be ridiculous! If Christine Daae was ever a ghost, you're looking at her!" Madeleine flinched, Corinne's words echoing in her head.

"She's no ghost Madam." He pleaded. His eyes wide, his hands clenched tight.

"No. Remove her." Madam turned away. The stranger came towards Madeleine cautiously, reaching out a hand for her arm.

"NO!" Madeleine yelled tearing away from the stranger. "How _dare _you." She said loudly.

"How dare you speak to me like that?" Madam turned slowly. She allowed her eyes to rest on Madeleine's before beginning to move slowly towards her. As she approached her face passed in and out of the light, and in these moments, Madeline saw grey. Greying eyes, greying hair, and even a pale greyish skin. An aged face, and tired, cold eyes bore into hers as Madam bowed to Madeleine's level. She brought her face a mere inch away from Madeleine's and softly said,

"I dare, _Miss Beckett. _I dare because a long time ago, a girl who looked very much like you invited a demon into this House. A demon that never left. At least not until he'd brought the entire place down in his hell fire. I care very much about my girls, child; I will not risk inviting it back." Madeleine glared at Madam. She was tired; she was insulted and quite frankly sick, already, of being constantly judged on her resemblance to her grandmother.

"You people astound me." Madeleine said, bewildered. "None of you were there, there's no proof any of this ever happened. It was just a freak accident! And in case you haven't previously been informed _Madam,_ that "demon's" name is Erik; and finally, my appearance resembles that of Christine Daae, because she is my great grandmother!" Madam smiled thinly.

"Great granddaughter hm? Then you will of course know of Christine Daae's children?" Madam smiled coldly, eyes glinting.

"Of course." Madeleine nodded. "Christine had two daughters, Stephanie and Emilia. The former is my aunt, and my mother died when I was small." Madam's smile slipped, flabbergasted she whispered,

"Your mother died?"

"Yes?" Madeleine replied curiously. Madam turned to Julian.

"Julian, take your guest upstairs to the vacant room near Miss Daae's old dressing lounge. Take the key, lock her in and report back to me, understood?"

"But-"

"No buts. Miss Beckett, you will remain in your room until I fetch you. If ever you leave your room it will not be unattended and you shall by no means be left to wander at your own luxury. I will permit you to stay, but if I smell a hint of trouble you will be gone."

Madam left the room; the stranger waddled after her streaming out protests, and Julian froze, shell shocked ahead of Madeleine.

"Miss Beckett, I-"

"No need to apologise," Madeleine replied curtly. "You best take me to my room, but may I ask what changed her mind?" Julian inhaled deeply, and nodded.

"She has a soft spot for orphans." He responded weakly.


	9. Chapter 9

Julian swept Madeleine up to her room faster than she may have liked. She protested as often as she could catch breath, which was a difficult task given the number of staircases required to reach her designated room. The Opera House was still dark in the gloom of dawn; the way was lit by candlelight, a fact that Madeleine regarded with confusion.

"Why not use electric light?" she gasped, pulling up her skirts to avoid tripping on yet another staircase.

"I told you, they wanted to keep the place as close as they could to the original."

"I know that. I just would have thought…considering it was a fire that destroyed it in the first place-"

"In truth Miss Beckett, they were afraid of making too many changes…they were worried the Phantom might take offense." Madeleine considered this silently.

"They truly believe he will come back, don't they?"

"I don't know about that," Julian frowned, "but it is their worst nightmare, and well, you've already seen what they're willing to sacrifice in order to prevent it." Julian stopped for a moment. He frowned at his hand before clenching it and hitting the wall furiously.

"Julian!" Madeleine exclaimed. She reached for his wrist and gently placed it back by his side.

"I'm sorry, Miss," he replied, dropping his chin to his chest with a heaving sigh. "I just never thought they'd behave this childishly. Locking a young woman in a room like a caged animal because she just _happens _to resemble a woman who lived over a hundred years ago. You are right, what on earth do they expect to happen? I am sorry you have to suffer this." Madeleine imagined for a moment Julian's reaction if she told him of her encounter with Erik.

Oh yes Madeleine, very clever. Consider turning away the only person on your side…he probably won't be afraid, he'll just think that you're mad; besides even _you _don't know what was real back there.

"It's alright, I should have expected it. Anyway, I'll only be here for a short while I expect," Madeleine smiled reassuringly at Julian. "Are we close? I don't know how many more steps my legs can take…"

* * *

The last Madeleine saw of Julian that night was an apologetic smile before the wooden door gently closed. As she finally heard the key turn, click, and slide out of the lock, Madeleine released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. She was surprisingly relieved by the solitude. The room was modest at best. A bed, a table, a window. It was all she needed. She pulled two books from her suitcase and placed them carefully on the table. The first and bigger of the two was Christine's old diary. Madeleine tenderly stroked the faded cover before carefully peeling back the pages and replacing the old photo of the Opera House. The second, slightly smaller, newer book was her own diary, it was leather, like Christine's, and blank save for a simple 'Property of Madeleine Beckett' on the inside cover. It had been a trying day for Madeleine, and the sun had barely risen. However the light that filtered into the room gave a warmth to the Opera House that Madeleine had yet to experience, and afforded a certain comfort to her for the first time since her arrival. A small bathroom neighbored the bedroom and Madeleine took no time in changing into a fresh dress and re-pinning her hair. She splashed her face with cool water and stared intently at her reflection for a moment.

She spent a good few minutes pulling at her face, twisting into into funny shapes, pulling odd faces, and allowing herself to be childishly amused before sighing at her irreversible likeness to her great grandmother. She returned to the bedroom to close her suitcase, and with one foot she nudged it under the bed before falling, sprawling lightly across the sheets. The room was minus a clock, and after a period of staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, Madeleine lost all sense of time. She assumed that perhaps Madam had forgotten her, for Madeleine stirred only when darkness had once again fallen over Paris; and stirred only to slide between her sheets of the cold, unwelcoming bed. Despite it all, she was asleep in moments.

In horror stories the nights are always the same. The darkness outside cloaks 'safety' in shadow; unexplained creaks and thuds play an ominous percussion; wind lifts and fills curtains, billowing them into ghostly shapes, whilst whistling a haunting lilt… In this setting, a shadow will often creep unseen, often upstairs, to the bedroom of an innocent, often sleeping. Madeleine slept on; unaware of the key slowly turning in the lock; unaware of the shadow that slipped easily through the doorway; unaware until the figure eclipsed the flickering candlelight. The sudden darkness roused Madeleine and the events that followed occurred somewhat like this:

Flickering eyelids saw a faceless shadow, a flash of silver, or metal, a shriek…

Nothing. The shadow disappeared, Madeleine lay, heart pounding, hands over her face, trembling. With a shaking hand she pulled the diary towards her, and taking the pencil she'd placed beside it she clumsily inscribed, "Erik?"


	10. Chapter 10

The remainder of Madeleine's night was spent tossing as turning. She checked the door several times, bemused at how it could still be locked. She paced the short expanse of floor; she even checked her window. She returned to bed; lay staring at the ceiling, checking each side of her at regular intervals, paranoid of another intruder. She picked up her dairy as though to write again, yet could think of nothing more to say and was still too afraid to describe the events of the night. Madeleine instead pulled Christine's diary from the table. The cover looked much the same, faded and worn; and yet this time it afforded Madeleine no comfort. In fact, she didn't dare open it. She closed her eyes in a sigh of defeat, and mercifully found peace in sleep once again.

* * *

Morning offered a splash of reality. It is hard to be afraid of ghosts and night stalkers when a room is bathed in gold, and Madeleine found herself tempted by the idea that she had probably dreamed the frightening encounter; after all, all she'd heard in her first two days was 'ghost', 'cursed', 'phantom', etc. It was only natural it should be troubling her mind.

Wouldn't be the first time…she thought, placing the last pin in her hair. She stepped back into the bedroom as a knock on the wooden door broke the silence. The key turned noisily in the lock and it swung easily open to reveal a tired looking Madam. In the light of day Madeleine saw her clearly for the first time. She had greying hair pulled into a tight ballerina bun, save for a sweeping curled lock that softened her face. Her eyes were cold, grey and piercing, yet the crinkles beside them betrayed her tendency to smile. The rest of Madam's face was constructed with a contradiction of warm features. She had full lips, pursed in her current state of discomfort, but with wrinkles that once again betrayed their tendency to smile. She was a woman, who had once been handsome and time had not been tremendously unkind; she had aged, but Madam still owned an unusual beauty. Madeleine approached the door slowly; the same way she often approached the neighbour's cat so as not to startle her. Madam waited, arms folded, for Madeleine to reach the doorway before turning and heading back down the stairway. Madeleine pulled the door closed and followed,

"You wake early, that is something at least," Madam said. Her voice was softer than Madeleine remembered, but it had an underlying crass tone that she recognised; her aunt had the same voice and when it became that icy crass, the three nieces would tremble.

"Force of habit," Madeleine smiled. "Where are we going?"

"_I _am attending a rehearsal. You will watch. I may not approve of your presence but I am not an unkind woman. I should think Julian would be gland of the company." Madam did not speak again until they arrive back in the main hall of the Opera House. It was as intricate as Christine's photos, golden statues and etchings, red velvet, red paint, and dark wood all intertwined into a glamour that Madeleine could barely steal her eyes from. The sunlight from the tall windows hit the gold and illuminated it like magic; all Madeleine could do was stare.

"Girl, now." Madam said sharply. Madeleine nodded and followed Madam once more. Through tall doors, double doors, and finally a single heavy, creaking door that required both ladies' strength to budge, and the two appeared in the stalls of the Opéra Populaire. Madeleine gasped.

"Ah ah, silence." Madam barked, placing a slim finger to her lips. She ushered Madeleine to a seat and watched her sit. "You will not move from this seat, you will not utter a word or otherwise disturb this rehearsal, do I make myself clear?" Madeleine frowned and opened her mouth to explain that she had no intention of causing trouble, before Madam shook her head. "I want a simple yes, or no."

"Yes." Madeleine retorted stiffly.

"Good." Madam finished. She inhaled sharply, glaring down at the girl for a moment before turning her attention to the stage upon which a large number of colourful shapes stretched, chatted, or practiced. Madeleine saw one of these colours staring in her direction.

Corinne. She thought. Corinne was sitting, legs forming a perfect horizontal line beneath her. She had her hands furled around her pointed toe, and her face rested on her knee. Her eyes bore into Madeleine's; snapping away only when Madam appeared onstage, claimed the attention of the dancers and commenced the rehearsal.

"Sleep well?" a voice beside her tentatively whispered. Madeleine caught Julian's eye and smiled comfortingly,

"Yes, thank you," she lied. Julian bit his lip,

"Madeleine, I'm truly sorry about-"

"Julian, I told you there's no need to apologise." She interrupted hastily.

"I just thought…you seemed a little offended yesterday," he frowned, resting his head in his heads.

"I've had better mornings," Madeleine laughed, she tipped her head to catch his eye again, "but I certainly don't blame you for it." Julian smiled gratefully and Madeleine saw the twinkle appear again in his eyes.

"You have to watch Corinne dance." Julian grinned, "I know I sound biased, but she truly is the best dancer here." He nodded to the stage. Madeleine watched, at first all she saw was a kaleidoscope of colour as the dancers whirled across it, but her focus soon found a figure amongst the blur that was Corinne, and Julian was not wrong. She glided as though weightless, easily contorting her body into smooth shapes, slipping like a shadow between her fellow dancers. Madeleine watched her in awe, until a small, proud chuckle from Julian snatched her from the trance.

"She dances beautifully!" Madeleine agreed quietly.

"She does indeed." He replied just as quietly. He stared intently into space, eyebrows furrowed as though troubled, "lucky really."

"Why lucky?" Madeleine shot back quickly. Julian shrugged, and Madeleine waited. After a few moments he sighed.

"I think she would probably have kicked me out by now were it not for Corinne." He sighed.

"Why?"

"Corinne and I, we're orphans." He smiled sadly, "most people don't like the responsibility that comes with us, and most of us end up on the streets. I'm still here because she needs Corinne."

"I thought you said Madam had a soft spot for orphans?" Madeleine replied quizzically.

"She does…but not because she pities us, she favours them because she adopt them into the Opera House and raise them as performers." Julian sighed, "I'm no performer, but Corinne's threatened to leave if they throw me out." He smiled sadly. "As long as she's the best dancer here, I'm safe." Madeleine stared wide- eyed and open mouthed at Julian.

"That's awful." She murmured in disbelief, she took Julian's hand and gently squeezed it. He smiled gratefully again and removed his hand from hers.

"What happened to your parents?" Madeleine asked gently, "That is if you don't mind me asking." Julian shook his head with a smile,

"No, I don't mind," He replied, "Sickness. Corinne and I were maybe seven or eight at the time…we are extremely lucky to be alive."

"I'm sorry," Madeleine offered,

"You're the same? Your mother died too you said." Julian asked gently,

"Yes, but I was very small." She retorted,

"What about your father?"

"He worked away, I never saw a lot of him. One day a letter came and we learnt that he died too. I was ten."

"So you're an orphan too?" Julian smiled.

"No, I have my Aunt." Madeleine argued, "and my sisters, Josephine and Gabrielle." She realised then that she missed them and recalled their last encounter with a pang of guilt. "Julian, why has Madam allowed me to stay here?" She quizzed. "You said yourself, without Corinne you wouldn't be here, so why on earth has she permitted me to stay?"

"Are you being funny, Miss?" he laughed, "forget the fact that you're an orphan and that your face pretty much terrifies anyone that recognises it; you are the _granddaughter, _of Christine Daae…"

"Yes-"

"She was she best dancer and singer this Opera House ever saw." Julian smirked,

"Yes, but-"

"And you are her granddaughter…"

"I understand that, but-"

"Don't you see Madeleine? She's extremely curious to see if you have any of your ancestors talent." Julian laughed, "I would have thought you'd have guessed that."

"She wants to make me into a performer?"

"I'm not much of a gambler miss, but I would bet my life on this one."

"I thought she was paranoid about 'summoning the demon'-"

"Well she thought you were a demon yourself then…she doesn't anymore."

"I'm not my grandmother, Julian!" Madeleine shrieked, receiving a pointed glare from Madam. Julian watched her cautiously, with a sad smile in replacement of his smug smirk moments before. He turned to watch the dancers again, focusing particularly on the colourful blur he knew to be Corinne; and with his face pained, he drew in a breath and muttered an unnoticed,

"We'll see."


End file.
